Heartbeat at Midnight
by paperdaffodil
Summary: There is nothing you can do to protect the person who has never left your side. Your hands are tied as you watch her slowly lose the light in her eyes. If you fight for her, if you put yourself in the middle of the situation, she'll get hurt. If you don't, you could lose her. A battle of what you want and what she needs occurs.
1. Chapter 1

His eyes roamed her body, seeing everything she had wanted to hide. He saw the olive skin, the smearing of freckles and moles. The way her forearm met her wrist. His eyes took in the beauty of her abdomen, ribs expanding and collapsing as she gently breathed. Of her slightly protruding hips against the weathered denim. But most of all, he noticed the scars that he was never supposed to see, the scars that she'd never show. While he didn't know the story behind them, he did know the girl asleep on the couch. His eyes drifted to her face, peaceful and seemingly calm. Her eyelids fluttered as her mouth curved upwards as though she had dreamt something beautiful. He didn't need to dream; the girl next to him was everything beautiful and he'd spend every day making sure she knew just that.


	2. Chapter 2

He could remember the day like it was yesterday. He'd woken up late, only to find his apartment trashed by his roommate from the night before. He knew that his class started at eight and he had to somehow get from one side of the city to another; this was the downside to the decision to attend college on the East Coast.

Popping into the coffee shop that had become his haunt, he noticed that the blonde girl he'd come to know was not behind the counter. This was unusual; normally, she was there when the shop opened and would remain there until he came back from his evening class.

"Hey Mel, where's Quinn?" He asked the manager as the coffee flowed.

"She called in, saying she would be late. I figure she had some exam or something."

Just as Mel finished her sentence, the door blew open and in came a whirlwind of blond hair and the smell of roses mingling with coffee. The girl was balancing textbooks and trying to have a conversation with someone on the phone. Today must have been her organic chemistry and elements of composition classes; normally she was more, well, put together. Instead of her usual attire of a loose skirt and scarf, she was dressed in tight yoga pants with a shirt from her high school glee club.

"Hey Quinn," Sam said as he watched her move across the floor with the ease of a waitress.

"Hi. Listen, Mel? I know I'm late. My professor refused to stop lecturing, despite protests. I'm heading to change now."

Quinn went into the back room as Sam sat at the counter. He enjoyed talking to Quinn; for some reason, he could tell her anything and she would just listen. They'd met three months before when Sam had asked her to sit with him during her break. The conversation was easy, her eyes lit up when she mentioned photography. At times, he wished that he knew whether or not she had a boyfriend but he never wanted to ruin the friendship they were building. She had this infectious laugh that could turn an entire room of irritated people into smiling folks. Perhaps that was why customers loved her so much; Quinn could make the day a little brighter by simply saying hello.

"Okay, Sam. What are you drinking? The usual?" Her bright blue eyes met his as she approached the counter.

"Yeah, and one of those scones I know you made last night."

"What makes you so sure that I made some last night? I mean, you don't always get what you want."

Sam chuckled. He knew that she had saved him a chocolate chip scone, like she did every other morning. "Oh, okay. I mean, I know that you have one. You always have a scone for me. You love me too much to let me go hungry."

That put a small smile of Quinn's face as she reached behind the counter to pull out his scone with a flourish.

"See?" Sam smirked. "I knew you would feed me."

"I suppose. I mean if you died, who would I talk to?" She teased as she refilled his coffee.

"Exactly. So how's the photography coming Quinn?"

She sighed, setting the coffee pot down. "Okay, I guess. I feel like I don't have enough time."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw this girl today while I was walking over here. She had to be about my age and you know what she was doing? Taking pictures. It seemed as though she had all the time in the world to take pictures. I mean, this city is made for artists and I don't even have the time to stop. And yeah, sure, I keep my camera with me all the time but I don't have any means to set up a shoot or develop prints."

"So take pictures here."

"Right. About that; you try bussing tables, making drinks and then dealing with customers and their problems. No, I don't have time."

"Fine. Give me your camera."

"Why?" She asked as she looked at him suspiciously.

"If you can't take the pictures, I'll take them of you. Think of it as a self portrait of sorts. A day in the life of Quinn Fabray."

"Do you even know how to turn on my camera"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. That's part of the fun."

She bent to grab her camera from its place beneath the counter and faced Sam. Beautiful Sam who was studying to be a business owner that helped the less fortunate. Sam who never said anything bad about anyone; Sam who had stayed late on occasion to help her clean up.

"If you drop it, break it or damage it I will kill you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm serious Samuel Evans."

He took the camera from her and shooed her away. He had a plan and if he could get away with it, he would. Sam watched her weave in and out of the tables, talking to her customers. Focusing the camera, he caught her greeting a young child who was coloring. It was as if she and the child were having a deep conversation about the coloring sheet. He captured the child, crayon in hand and bright smile on their face. He captured Quinn's hand reaching around the child to point, coffeepot in the other and her hair piled high upon her head as the sun shined through the window.

As her shift wore on, he was able to take more photos and when she finally reached for her camera, he asked her for one more.

Climbing over the bar, he moved her to the spot where you could see the entire shop behind her. Sliding beside her, he focused the camera and told her to smile. She did and just as the flash went off, he turned to face her, completely lost in her smile. This was the girl that he loved. This was the girl who made him happy.

He returned the camera and asked for a copy of the last shot. He knew that it would find a place in his apartment, never leaving its spot because she was special. Quinn was the first person in New York that he related to.


End file.
